Tomorrow by Colette Maxfield

TOMORROW

We fell into pauper’s tears, into the crime of shadows

We fell deeply like wells without walls

That were earthen.

We wandered on the brink of disaster

And we called it good, plain words

Just as we were taught.

We constructed men’s faces

Out of these twig-like forms.

When we resurfaced, when we were groundless,

We paused.

We spoke elephant, we shrugged knuckles.

We caught river weeds in rotten nets

We called openly.

And still the sky kept pouring

Like a symphonic coastline.